Good Boyfriend: A Love Story (The Bad Nanny Trilogy Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  Rob chuckles, in a surprisingly good mood for somebody that has to take care of six brats, four dogs, and a hairless cat all weekend. Speaking of … the screeches emanating from the upstairs bathroom are like, fucking legendary. That cat sure has a set of pipes on 'im. If my brother and sister-in-law weren't my landlords, I'd probably get animal control called on me. It sounds like Hubert just got himself into a fight with Godzilla, Mothra, and that crazy three-headed dog from Harry Potter. What's his name, Fluffy?

  Should've named Hubert that instead. Wouldn't that have been ironic?

  “The previous homeowner was pissed about the foreclosure, so he'd stolen the sinks, all the light fixtures …”

  “The downstairs toilet,” I add before Rob can finish and he flashes me a big white grin, those shiny square teeth of his hiding inside a mess of red-orange hair. I've always thanked the gods profusely for giving me my father's dark brown locks and not that wild nightmare of flame that scorches across my brother's scalp. I don't think neon orange curls would look as good shaped into a mohawk, or shaved on one side, do you?

  “He took the doorknobs and all the handles from the kitchen cabinets. I remember getting irrationally pissed about that.”

  “Eh, you were just freaking the fuck out because Kinzie had just been born,” I say, remembering my brother holding her like she was made of gold and glaring at all the neighbors when they tried to come over to say hi. I think he might've bitten their hands off if they'd tried to touch her.

  “You'll see,” he says as he opens the curtains and pauses as a car pulls into the driveway behind my Geo. The two vehicles just barely fit on the narrow incline, but Brooke and I had the kids help us draw a chalk line at the spot where I needed to rest the Geo's front tires to make it all work. And then, of course, we all took turns drawing white sketches around our 'dead' bodies and leaving a crime scene right there on the front walk. “When you have your first baby, you'll be a dick to everyone, too. It's in our blood to be protective.”

  I roll my eyes and try not to choke when Rob pulls me in for one of his massive bear hugs.

  “Glad to have you around, baby brother. I missed you.” He kisses my forehead gruffly and moves away before I can call him out on having tears in his eyes again. Jesus, what is it with the dudes in this family? We are weepy and blubbery as hell.

  “Evening, Brooke,” he says as the two of them pass each other on the staircase. “If I don't see you again before you leave, could you please remind Zayden to call us and check in during the drive?”

  “Definitely,” she says with a smile, watching him tromp down the stairs like he's the Big fucking Friendly Giant or some shit.

  “How was class, baby?” I ask as she rounds the corner and heads down the short length of hallway and into the bedroom. I know she spots the curtains straight off, and I grin, putting my arm around her neck and pulling her close for a kiss. “Did you learn anything that might save the world one day?”

  “Possibly,” she says, and I feel my grin get even bigger. I get a kick out of how much smarter she is than me. Not sure why exactly, but I find it incredibly sexy. Or maybe it's just the glasses she's wearing, I'm not sure. “It looks fucking beautiful in here, Zay.”

  “Not as beautiful as you,” I tell her and she smacks me in the chest, pausing to feel up my muscles which I totally dig. I don't workout for nothin', right? These babies are meant to be enjoyed. “So, you like it, I take it?”

  “Love it.

  “Good, because it took me like two hours to hang the damn curtains alone. The drywall was just crumbling to pieces, even with the anchors. I think I've got 'em in there pretty good now.”

  Brooke moves over to the window and leans out over the roof, the salty breeze carrying her hair around her face. Believe it or not, we actually have a bit of an ocean view from here. In the distance, Humboldt Bay sparkles in the weak sunshine. Only downside is that if there's a big earthquake (which, you know, we are in earthquake country) then the following tsunami will pretty much wipe this place off the map.

  But let's not think of that, shall we? I like to think of myself as a glass half-full kind of a guy.

  At the edge of the sidewalk are little patches of greenery dotted with the waxy green leaves of rhododendrons, trees stretching up into the sky and shading the road from what little sunshine there is. It's kind of peaceful though, you know?

  “What time are we leaving in the morning?” Brooke asks as I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, enjoying the way our bodies fit together so seamlessly. I'd like that seamless connection even more if there were no clothes involved, but I suppose that'll have to wait.

  Brooke and I have plans.

  “Not sure. What I am sure of is that Mercedes and I both agreed that the kids would be better off staying over there tonight, so we don't have to wake them up and move them in the morning. You know what that means?”

  “Sex?” Brooke asks and I laugh.

  “No fucking way. I thought we'd sit around and watch YouTube videos about cats.” I ruffle up her hair and take a step back. “I'm taking you out on a special date, Miss Overland. I hope you're ready for this one. I've had this planned all week.”

  “Now you're just scaring me,” she says, but she follows when I reach out and take her hand.

  Wonder if she'd still have grabbed it if she knew we were going to a sex shop?

  “Sweet Relations?” Brooke asks, reading the name of the shop from the safety of the sidewalk. The only—literally the only—sex/lingerie/lovers boutique in the entire area is right here, just off 2nd Street in Old Town. It's housed in a green and white Victorian that supposedly used to be brothel back in the day. “What is this place?”

  “Come on in and you'll see,” I tell her, leading the way and propping the front door open so she can step inside. As soon as she does, she lets out a long breath and plants her hands on her hips.

  “I should've known, shouldn't I?”

  “And why's that? Because I'm a smarmy little bastard?”

  “You're not smarmy,” Brooke says, her eyes tracing across the silver framed photos of pinups, the racks of lingerie, and the curtain in the back that separates the clothing from all the good stuff. “But you are kind of a horny asshole.”

  “Me?” I ask innocently as the saleslady smiles at us, a red feather boa wrapped around her neck. She doesn't say anything as I grab Brooke by the wrist and tug her into the back of the shop. “Eh, you're probably right. I am kind of a horny asshole. Thus, the date.”

  “I thought you were taking me out to dinner or something.”

  I grin at her as she pauses just beyond the curtain and takes in the glass shelves of dildos, the vibrators hanging in fancy packaging on the wall to her right, the bins in the center of the room filled with different types of condoms.

  “I am taking you to dinner—after you pick out something here that we haven't tried yet. Consider this … your elective of sorts.”

  “Don't you already own all of this stuff back in Las Vegas? I was sort of expecting to walk in and basically find your condo looking like this.”

  “Actually, Miss Overland,” I start as she pulls her shoulders back and runs a hand down the front of the black sweater she's wearing. It has a big white cat face silhouette on the front, and it's about as ridiculous as something I'd put Hubert in. With a denim skirt on the bottom and a pair of cowboy boots, my girl is totally nerd chic. I think we suit each other, you know? She looks like a nerd, but then listens to rock and metal music. I look like I'd listen to rock and metal music, but am in all reality, a fucking serious nerd.

  Hopefully Brooke doesn't break up with me when she sees my action figure collection.

  “Actually, what?” she retorts as she moves fearlessly over to the wall and hefts a massive sparkly blue dildo in her hands, looking at the diameter of the damn thing like it scares the shit out of her. Don't blame the girl on that one. It scares the shit out of me, too.

  “Actually I don't have much
of a collection. I didn't really need any with the one-night stands, and then my previous girlfriends sort of brought whatever toys they had into the relationship with them and left the same way. I can tell you with all due seriousness that I've never brought a girl to a lovers' boutique before in my life.”

  “Why? Because you knew they'd see this and run the other way.” Brooke turns and points the massive toy in my direction like it's a bazooka or something. “I'm sorry, Zayden, but it looks like I'm no longer in need of your services.”

  “Oh, really?” I ask, grabbing a leather switch out of the bin next to me and slapping it against my open palm. “I guess we'll see about that, won't we?”

  I dart forward before she can hop out of the way and smack her right on the ass with the switch.

  The noise that comes out of her throat isn't really all that pained. In fact, it sounds throaty enough that the employee sweeping the wood floors down behind us pauses to look up.

  We both pretend to be really interested in the sparkly blue dildo.

  “Please tell me that's not really your choice,” I whisper as Brooke wiggles the silicone in my direction. “I was thinking something more along the lines of flavored lube or a vibrator, maybe some nipple clamps …”

  “I see now,” she tells me with a smirk, putting the toy back on the shelf and taking this whole thing a lot better than I thought she would. She shoves her glasses up her nose and I feel my smile getting that lazy, asshole sort of curve to it. I can't help it; when Brooke's around, I'm in full flirtation mode. I wasn't kidding when I told her that sex was my first and third favorite pastime … or that she made me not give a shit what my second and fourth favorites were anymore. “I can't pick out anything that you're intimidated by. Got it.”

  She steals the switch from my hand and when the employee isn't looking, she smacks me in the ass with it. I imagine this is one of the things we'll be buying in here.

  Brooke twirls the red leather heart at the end of the switch around in a circle and then points up a short, thin red dildo on one of the top shelves.

  “So that would be out of the question, too, I take it?” she asks and I notice that the employee's trying not to laugh. I narrow my eyes and cross my tattooed arms over my chest.

  “When the hell did you get to be so cheeky? If you're not careful, I might just go to Las Vegas without you tomorrow.” The joke falls a little flat, and then I just feel guilty as hell. “I really am sorry, Brooke,” I say as she studies a sign taped next to the garden of condoms in the middle of the room. Mix and Match, it says. Brooke grabs a paper bag from a small stack, shakes it open and starts picking out random condoms in different colors and flavors, even some that glow in the dark.

  “It's okay, Zayden. You're not perfect. Nobody is.”

  Brooke hands the bag over to me and I choose some at random. I'm sure that whiskey flavored condom will probably come back to haunt Brooke's nightmares, but it's already mixed up inside the bag so I guess we're buying it.

  “No, but still. Everything you said about me was true. I pushed and pushed until you let down your guard and then I acted like a stupid fucker.”

  “Then I guess you'll have to make it up to me,” she says, and then she spots something on the wall that turns her smile into a naughty little curve that I haven't quite seen on that fresh face of hers before.

  I have a feeling that whatever it is that she's looking at, it's either going to haunt my nightmares … or make all my dreams come true.

  Either way, I'm all in, baby.

  The kids are still up when we get back—we decided not to stay out too late since we have to leave early in the morning—and they go absolutely nuts when they see us, screaming and shouting over each other. The only one that's quiet is the baby, tucked in Mercedes' arms as she sits on her front porch and waves at us.

  “What's a shotgun wedding?” Kinzie asks after Zayden finally manages to untangle the twins from his legs, prying them off and sending them screeching across the yard when he does his 'zombie walk'. It's just a little growl and a shuffling gait, but they both love it and fear it at the same time. Zayden calls it his twin repellent.

  “Um, why?” Zay asks back, giving me a look as I clutch our Sweet Relations bag in a death grip. If one of the kids gets a hold of this, we'll have even worse questions to answer than that.

  “Dad says you're probably taking Brooke to Las Vegas for a shotgun wedding.”

  “Uh-huh,” Zay replies dryly, raising both brows and then lifting his chin to stare up at the sky. “Of course he did.” He drops his head back down and rubs at the freshly shaved stars on the right side of his head. Each one's got a slightly different shape and design. I find it almost impossible to resist tracing them with my fingertips. “Hey,” he asks suddenly, changing the subject by acting almost bizarrely cheerful, “where's your dad right now?”

  “He's at the store,” Mercedes calls out, somehow able to hear the conversation we're having with Kinzie from all the way up there. I've noticed that's a thing that most moms seem to develop, this special ability to listen through all the screaming and the noise to what's most important. I wonder if Zay and I ever have a baby if I'll get it, too.

  But no. No way. I'm not thinking about having babies with this guy for at least ten years. Even if just looking at him makes my panties melt right off.

  “You tell that son of a Barbie that I'm going to kick his fudging rump next time I see him, okay? Brooke is not, uh, in the family way if you know what I mean.”

  “What's in the family way mean?” Kinzie asks, her curls in two pigtails that stick out on either side of her head like fuzzy ears. I notice Bella easing closer so she can listen in on the conversation.

  “Okay, that's about enough of that,” Zayden says, scooping them both up before they get a chance to run and making them scream. He spins them in a circle and sets them down, triumphantly expecting that's swayed them from their course.

  Not likely.

  “I'll just ask my teacher about both things in the morning,” Kinzie tells us snootily, and then saunters off, dragging Bella along behind her.

  “Mercedes' problem, not ours,” Zay whispers, taking me by the wrist and waving good night to the scattered children. I see there are a few extras in there. Neighborhood children then? One of the things Bella and Grace said they didn't like about Ingrid's place was that there weren't any kids to play with. Looks like they've got plenty now.

  I sense drama in the future.

  Zayden and I move down the bare walkway outside, my brain already picking apart the landscape and deciding where I can plant some flowers. The one thing I'll miss about Ingrid's is the backyard, with all its ferns and flowering foliage and redwood trees. I have to at least spruce up the outdoor situation here. I don't want to come home from class everyday to a patchy lawn and weeds.

  “I'm so locking all the doors and windows,” Zayden says as we step inside to the smell of fresh paint and carpet. “When we were kids, Rob and I used to see how many houses on our block we could sneak into without getting caught. And tonight, there's no way in hell I'm getting interrupted by one of those monster children.”

  “You and your brother were brats, weren't you?” I ask, thinking of Ingrid and myself. We definitely didn't do backflips off roofs or break into people's houses. Although I guess I'm sort of remedying those things now by breaking into swimming pools and having sex during Arts Alive. I guess we all have to go through a naughty streak eventually.

  “We were precocious,” Zayden corrects, doing exactly as he said and checking the sliding glass doors and the windows to make sure they're locked. Once he's satisfied we won't be subject to any Peeping Toms—or Peeping Kinzies or Bellas for that matter—we head upstairs to the purple bedroom.

  In my black bag, I have a, um, vibrating jelly sleeve. I know that doesn't sound at all sexy right now, but looking at the way it's supposed to work, I have high hopes.

  “Just remember,” Zay tells me as he sets out a few white pillar
candles and lights them, making me blush. Falling into wild, passionate sex is easy. But this setting up and prepping stuff is what really makes me nervous. My mind is too busy to just relax and let things be; I have to psychoanalyze everything. “Most sex toys suck. But it's that one in ten that's fucking brilliant that makes all the experimentation worth it.”

  Zayden pauses next to the bed in a loose black tank with some other weird puppet character from the Labyrinth on it—it's that creepy weird blue worm with the hair—and I just sort of wish he would take it off.

  “Okay,” he says as I dump the items out on the bed and we sift through them. There's this kit for making a dildo replica of your dude's penis, but that takes twenty-four hours to set so we skip past it (although I'm kind of looking forward to that one). There's also the switch, a massive supply of condoms and lubes that we picked out, some doorjamb cuffs, a pair of 'sex dice', and the jelly sleeve.

  I grab the last two items plus a condom and some lube and then push the rest back in the bag.

  “These,” I tell him, taking a deep breath and lifting my chin. I can still smell the salty tang of air off the bay, even with the window closed. “These are my votes for tonight.”

  “That sleeve scares the shit out of me,” Zayden says with a grin, setting the bag aside and then pulling his shirt up and over his head. Maybe the creepy blue worm on the front scares him, too? “But since my poor credit card took a nasty hit today, I might as well try it.”

  “Dice first,” I tell him and he winks at me, the piercings in his face and nipples catching the flickering light from the candles as he moves over to the bedroom door and flicks off the light.

  In the half-dark like this, some of Zay's goofiness is stripped away, leaving him with this feral look that thrills me from my head all the way down to my toes.

  I take a deep breath and kick off my boots, drop my skirt, tear off my sweater. Underneath, I'm wearing a matching purple lace bra with a black bow in the center … and a pair of plain beige cotton panties. I know, it's fucking terrible.